


Pet Names

by Rockinmuffin



Series: Jerk Off [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gender-neutral Reader, Other, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Sexual Humor, Sexual Relationship Implied, Whirl is a jerk, Xenophilia, inappropriate nickname
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 07:04:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7304386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rockinmuffin/pseuds/Rockinmuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not that you dislike nicknames, per se.  Sometimes, they can even be endearing.  But Whirl’s latest nickname for you, well…</p><p>“Hey, Fleshlight, get over here!”</p><p>…It leaves much to be desired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pet Names

“Hey, Fleshlight, get over here!”

You freeze mid-step, nearly falling flat on your face. You cover your hands over your face to hide the heat burning in your cheeks. Did he just call you what you _think_ he called you?

“C’mon, Fleshlight, what’s takin’ so long?”

Oh my God, he totally _did_.

You take a chance to peek from between your fingers.

None of the ‘bots bat an eyelash. Granted, none of the ‘bots have eyelashes to bat in the first place but, either way, they don’t seem to register Whirl’s words. Either they have no idea what the significance is of Whirl’s nickname for you or they have just programmed themselves to ignore anything that comes out of Whirl’s vocalizer.

Still, the lack of reaction from the others does nothing to quell your embarrassment or righteous rage.

You stomp over to Whirl, a course of action that you realize must look incredibly ridiculous and nonthreatening to a race of people whose average footfall shakes the floor with enough force to knock your ass to the ground but you’re already invested in the action so you continue to slam your feet to the ground with all the perceived force of an angry insect until you reach your destination.

Whirl leans over you, the light of his optic shining bright. “Aww, you actually came over. You’re so well-trained!” he praises, high-pitched and tone patronizing.

“We need to talk.”

“Ooooooooh,” Tailgate taunts, elbowing Whirl in the knee joint. “Someone’s in trouble.”

“Yeah?” Whirl tilts his head to the side, looking far from intimidated. “We can talk right here.”

You narrow your eyes. “We need to talk _in private_ ,” you tell him, voice firm yet even.

He makes a big show of flickering the light of his optic in a way that’s vaguely reminiscent of someone rolling their eyes. “Okay, _fine_. Any excuse for you to get me alone, huh? I don’t blame you. I’m impossibly charming.”

“No, you’re just impossible. Now, _come_.”

“For you, sweetspark? _Anytime_.”

You scrunch your face up in distaste. He’s such a gross asshole. But instead of calling him out on it in front of a room full of ‘bots who you would rather they _not_ know the nature of yours and Whirl’s relationship, you simply turn heel and charge straight out of there at full speed. Whirl easily catches up with you at a slow, leisurely pace because he is a stupid giant long-legged asshole.

As soon as the two of you are out of the room, you turn on him.

You rear your leg back and kick him in the shin as hard as you can. Which, in hindsight, is actually a terrible idea because he is forged from living metal that can withstand literal tons of brute force from other metal behemoth’s made of equally tough stuff whereas you are made of flesh and bone and bruise when gravity causes you to fall on your own ass. It hurts you more than it hurts him but, hey, it’s the principle of the thing.

“Cute.” Whirl’s shoulders shake as he laughs at you. “Was that supposed to hurt?”

“What the hell is _wrong_ with you?!” you scream, kicking him again out of spite.

Whirl tilts his head to the side, trying to be cute. “Do you want the whole story or the abridged version?”

“What would make you think that it’s okay to call somebody a _fleshlight_?”

“What? You’re the one and only fleshbag on a ship named The Lost Light. And even though you’re this weird, tiny thing, you still somehow manage to be this bright beacon of warmth and light. You know, kind of like a flashlight.” His claw reaches up to idly scratch at the plated metal of what might be a chin. “I thought I was being pretty clever.”

“Whirl, that’s…” If you didn’t know better, you might mistake him for being heartfelt. Knowing Whirl, the flashlight metaphor is just so he can award himself extra clever points. Still, you can’t hold back the warmth that bubbles in your chest at the words.

The light of his optic flashes in what you’ve come to understand is a mischievous grin. “Plus, I bet you’d feel great wrapped around my spike!”

Ah, _there_ it is.

“You piece of trash! I can’t believe I thought to give you the benefit of the doubt for even a second. _Of course_ you know what a fleshlight is! I _knew_ it couldn’t be a coincidence!”

Whirl looks down, amused as you pound your tiny fists against his leg until your knuckles start to bruise. You continue the fruitless beating until you’re a sweating, panting mess, the frantic pounding of your fists now no more than a gentle rapping of your knuckles.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

“That depends. Did any of that manage to actually hurt you?”

He shakes his head in the negative.

“Damn it.” You bang your head against his leg in defeat. “…Ow.”

“I could cry out for you if you’d like. But I’d be faking it.”

You pull you face away from his leg just so you can look him straight in the eye as you scowl at him. “I hate you, you asshole.”

He reaches down and taps the flat end of a single claw-like finger against the center of your forehead. “Love you too, Fleshlight.”


End file.
